Coffee Tastes Better at Home
by Grasspaw
Summary: Coffee really does taste better at home, anyways. Besides, if Peter's stupid enough to actually leave the house anytime soon, Gabriel's going to blast him through a wall.


**Second in my new "Coffee" series... I own nothing.**

"Hey, Peter," Gabriel said, sliding into his seat across from Peter. Though Gabe was no longer tempted to slice people's heads open, they had kept up their weekly coffee meetings. The youngest Petrelli nodded but didn't say anything, as he had a straw in his mouth.

"Are you drinking sweet tea?" Gabriel asked, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah," Peter said, putting down his cup.

"Just going for something different today?" he asked, taking a sip of his own coffee. Peter shook his head.

"No, I'm just really hot. That and my head feels like it's going to split open... It's hard to take pills with coffee. Feels weird."

"Right. You want healing?"

"No, it's fine. I've still got Ando's power; it's useful in CPR. So how's your week been?"

For the next hour they talked of nothing important - "So I hear you saved two people from a train wreck the other day." "Yeah." - and things that were life-alteringly important - "Did I tell you that Nate's learning how to throw a baseball?" "Really? That's awesome!" - and other, random things.

After their coffee our was all used up - they didn't like to stay too long - Peter stood, stumbling slightly on his way out the door, where he paused and coughed before shaking his head and continuing on his merry way. Gabriel watched him, frowning.

~*~

Gabriel was grabbing a bag of potato chips off the shelf when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out to see that he had a text from Emma.

_Peter's sick and r usual sitter can't make it. Cn u watch the kids?_

He hung the basket over his arm and typed back, _Sure. What time?_

_Now is good, _she replied, and he chuckled.

_I'll be there in ten minutes._

He got in line, bought his food - it was only enough to last him for a week, but he wasn't exactly rich - then promptly teleported home, savoring the look of amazement on the cashier's face. He unloaded his groceries, then appeared in front of the Petrelli's house. It was a small, two-bedroom home, though Peter was working on converting the attic into another bedroom.

He walked up the gravel path to their house and rang the doorbell. Emma opened it immediately, looking relieved. "Hey, Emma. How's Peter?"

She sighed. "Awful. He's running a fever and coughing horribly. Red sparks." She flicked her fingers in front of her eyes, and he made a sympathetic noise.

"Where are the kids?"

"In front of the TV," she said, rolling her eyes. "I never did like TV that much. Too much time spent reading subtitles instead of watching what was going on. Kids, Uncle Gabe's here!"

There was a cacophony of noise from the next room, and a three-year-old boy ran in, followed by a chubby two-year-old boy and girl. "Hey, Unca Gabe!" Nate bellowed, latching onto his leg. The boy was a perfect miniature of his father; dark brown hair, hazel eyes. Niki and Christopher grinned at him. Though they were twins, they couldn't look more different; Christopher had straw-colored hair and pale, blue-green eyes, while Niki's hair was flaming red and her eyes hazel.

"Nate, I could see that," Emma said, warningly. "Keep your voice down; Daddy's asleep."

"Okay, Mommy!" he chirped, still hanging onto Gabriel's leg. He reached down to pry the child off, then paused and stretched out his consciousness further into the house.

"He's not asleep," he said softly.

"Then I can be loud?"

"No," Gabriel said firmly. "He's not asleep, but his head does hurt very, very much, and a lot of noise will make it worse." Nate sighed.

"We watchin' Scoob Doo! You watch it, too!" he demanded, though on a slightly lower decibel.

"Sure. Emma, you go on and get to work," he told her, smiling. "I can take it from here."

"Okay. Oh, and don't let him have more Tylenol for another hour. Every two hours Tylenol, then Motrin in two hours, then Tylenol in two hours, but only if he's awake. Just let him sleep it off."

"Sure. Wait, are Niki and Christopher potty-trained yet?" he called over his shoulder, but she missed it, heading out the door. He allowed himself to be dragged towards the sofa, where Nate sat him down then "helped" his younger siblings onto the couch, where they promptly pulled themselves into Gabriel's lap, one on each leg. Nate sat next to him, immediately absorbed in the Mystery Gang's latest adventure (Who kidnapped Scooby?). Gabriel promptly forgot himself in the TV show, remembering how he used to watch it when he was as young as the children he was now watching. He felt amazingly old.

They watched three and a half episodes before Gabriel heard noises in the back bedroom. "All right, kids, I'm going to go check on your dad, okay?"

"Otay, Unca Gabe," Nate said, staring at the screen like his life depended on it. Gabriel loved re-runs; they kept the kids entertained and kept him free to check on Peter.

"Pete?" he asked, poking his head into the master bedroom, bottle of Tylenol in his hand. "You awake?"

"Bathroom," he said weakly, and the word was followed immediately by the sound of retching. Gabriel took his time entering the room, waiting until he heard the toilet flush before he walked in. He really had no urge to see the contents of Peter's stomach floating around.

"Are you going to live?" he asked him in concern, setting the bottle of Tylenol on the counter. Peter was leaning backwards, his back pressed against the toilet as he panted.

"Where's Emma?" he mumbled, closing his eyes and wiping his mouth with a shaking hand. There was a sheen of sweat on his forehead.

"She's at work," Gabriel replied. "Tylenol?" Peter reached for the bottle, then popped two in his mouth and dry swallowed.

"Here," he muttered. "Take it back before I just swallow the bottle." Gabriel took it from his hand and placed it on the counter again. "Where's Taylor?" Peter asked, sagging against the toilet.

"The babysitter? I don't know. Emma said she couldn't make it."

Peter nodded, groaning. "Can you help me up? I want a drink."

"I can get that for you," Gabriel offered, and the man on the floor gave him a look that was pure Peter.

"You gonna leave me on the bathroom floor?"

"Right," Gabriel said, smirking. Something occurred to him. "Wait, why don't I just give you healing?" Peter shook his head.

"Same thing I told you yesterday. I need Ando's power right now, and you don't have that one so I can't get it back. Just help me up?"

"Sure." Gabriel grabbed Peter's outstretched hand and hauled the younger man to his feet. Peter swayed dizzily, his head in his hands.

"Thnks," he mumbled, staggering out of the bathroom. "Morning, kids," he yawned. Nate waved.

"You feel good now, Daddy. Right?" the boy asked innocently, and Peter smiled weakly.

"Not yet, buddy," he said, opening the cabinets and pulling out a glass with his shaking hands. He turned on the tap, filled the glass with water, and swallowed half of it in on gulp. He set the glass down, just in time to cough hard enough to send phlegm flying everywhere. Niki started to cry.

"What's wrong, Princess?" Peter asked between gasps for breath and another wracking cough.

"Daddy sick!" she wailed. Her twin brother, Christopher, began to cry also, while Nate watched them miserably. His hazel eyes began to water.

"No, kids," Peter said as soothingly as he could in his hoarse voice. "Daddy's gonna be fine, okay?"

"No you're not!" Niki replied, crying in earnest now.

"Yes, I am," Peter replied firmly. "I'm just a little bit sick right now and_Gabriel would you please calm them down becauseI'mabouttothrowup."_As Peter sprinted back towards the bedroom, Gabriel sighed, entered the children's minds, and thought with all his power,_Daddy's going to be fine._

They stopped crying, and Gabriel refilled Peter's glass before following him back to the bathroom, the sound of retching greeting him. He winced. "Peter, are you_sure_you don't want healing?"

_Gag._

"I'm going to force it into your head if you don't respond."

"Don't..." Cough cough cough. "Give it to..." Gag. "Me. I want..." Cough. "What I've got."

"You're sure?"

"Positive," Peter groaned, clutching his stomach. "I haven't been this sick since nursing school... Can you get me a wet washcloth?"

"Sure." Gabriel rifled around underneath the sink for a minute before finding what he was looking for, running water over it, and tossing it to Peter. The man barely managed to catch it, then began to sponge off his face, panting again.

"This really sucks."

"Heeeaaaliiing..." Gabriel sang out, holding out his hand invitingly. Peter shook his head firmly.

"Not doing it, Gabe." He pushed himself to his feet, grabbing onto the door frame for balance. Gabriel noticed that he was shivering.

"You want me to get you a jacket or something?"

"Bathrobe," Peter mumbled, stumbling into the bedroom and sitting on the bed. "It's on the door." Gabriel grabbed it and tossed it to him, Peter pulled it on over his t-shirt and pajama pants, tying the knot clumsily, as his hands were still shaking.

"Here, let me get you something hot to drink," Gabriel offered, and Peter nodded.

"The Keurig's on the counter," Peter said. "Can you make me one of the, uh... blueberry flavored ones?"

"Sure." Gabriel walked out, spotted the Keurig and the K-cups beside it, then pulled out two coffee cups. He returned to Peter's room a minute later to find Peter laying back against the pillows. "Shadow Thieves?" he asked curiously.

"Emma's copy," he said absently, sticking a book mark in it and placing it on the coffee table. He sat up and took the coffee from Gabriel, nodding in satisfaction. "It's good."

"Thanks. I worked really hard to press the button the right way." Peter laughed.

"Daddy, come watch with us!" Nate demanded, suddenly standing in the doorway. Peter sighed and got to his feet, and Gabriel reflected that as soon as a man had kids he seemed to lose all willpower.

He followed them out, clutching his own coffee cup in his hands and sitting himself on the couch to watch some more Scooby Doo. He and Peter chatted over the children's heads, Peter still coughing occasionally.

"Oh, I probably won't be able to make it for coffee next week," he said after a few minutes. "I mean, if I'm still half-dead it won't be that possible."

"Sure," Gabriel said with a shrug. "Coffee tastes better at home anywa- What's that smell?"

Peter sniffed, then wrinkled his nose. "That'd be Niki." He checked his watch. "And, you know, I think I'm going to go take a nap... You can change her." He grinned wickedly, then practically ran back to the bedroom, laughing. Gabriel stared after him in shock, then sank back into the couch miserably.


End file.
